In Desperate Times
by teabooksengland
Summary: Emergency doctors and nurses are trained to keep their cool even in the most difficult and terrifiying situations for the sake of their patients. But what happens when they find themselves at their own limits?
1. Prologue

**Author's note:** Hello everyone! It took me a long time to get a new idea for a fanfic, but here it is! I hope you like it! Also, thank you very much for the kind reviews about my last one, I am really happy you enjoyed it!

As this is a pretty angsty fic in my opinion, I feel I should give you a **warning** right here; it can be very **upsetting** to several people, and there are **mentions of violence and death** as well as **mental illnesses.** So if this is something that might upset you, don't read it! I am not entirely sure about the rating either, but I'd still put it under T for now. More notes and several informations at the end.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Code Blue or any of its characters.

* * *

 _Prologue_

 _The worldwide top ten of death causes published by the World Health Organization showed that, although the top three did not seem to change, there has been an improvisation with death cases due to tuberculosis. HIV, which has been in the top ten in 2005, didn't make it in 2015.  
When I was in medical school, I used to study the list of the top ten causes of death worldwide as soon as they were published. A morbid thing to do, one might think, but it still accounts for something. If we know the disease that killed most people in a year, we can try to find more approaches, change our life styles, prevent more people to die from it. In a way, I think it stands for our country's position in this world; in developing countries, the child and mother mortality are higher, in countries marred by war, the majority might be war victims._

 _The public does not seem to take a greater interest in the lists made by the WHO, they are practically evading it. I believe that people are secretly wondering what their own fate is going to be, and think about their habits that could increase their risk to die of such causes. Should I eat less salt and try to lose weight for the sake of my heart? Should I finally stop smoking? Should I stop eating so much sugar?_

We try everything we can, we invent new things and methods, publish new studies and take effort to make life as long as it could possibly be, but someday we have to leave this world, and the question how we'll leave, is something we won't be able to answer to until this very moment, when it is indeed the end.


	2. Chapter 1

So here comes the first chapter! Again, there are mentions of **death, violence and mental illnesses** from now on, so read at your own risk and look after yourselves! (Also, it is very long, I'm so sorry)

* * *

Shiraishi ran towards the helicopter, wearing the red first aid backpack on her back, with Saejima and Yokomine in tow. She stepped first into the open cavity of the helicopter, immediately putting on her headphones. The doors closed, and Shiraishi called for the paramedics on location.

"This is Shohoku Doctor Heli, can you tell me more about our patient's condition?" There is noise heard on the other hand of the radio, some sort of crackle, before a deep manly voice answers:

"The patient is a man in his 70s, complaining about chest pain which radiates into his left arm. Cold sweat present on his forehead, blood pressure 168/110."

Yokomine nodded to herself, already having a suspicion. "I understand. Please monitor the patient's heartbeat and blood pressure with the EGK until our arrival." Shiraishi disconnected with the radio and turned to Yokomine.

"What are your next steps?" Yokomine nodded, thinking about it for a second, before turning to Saejima.

"I will start an IV, please hold the necessary equipment and the defibrillator ready." Shiraishi nodded, visibly pleased as the pilot announced their landing time to be estimated within two minutes.

 _Ischemic heart disease. The biggest killer on the list of the top ten, and probably one of the most common known to the public. Smokers are at high risk to fall ill to it, but they're not the only ones by far. The certain lifestyle we like so much, riding home comfortably in our own cars, not having to walk miles each day, the full variety of delicious food waiting around the corners, takes a certain toll on our lives, in some cases more than in others. Obesity, formerly been a sign for rich people, is very common today.  
Additionally, as we are getting older today than we did before, there is a higher possibility that the muscle we owe so much to might grow weak and tired. _

Shiraishi took her surgical gloves off. She sighed as she watched the fellows and Tachibana leaving the room with their patient on the stretcher. The man had suffered a cardiac arrest on location and had had to be defibrillated. The fellows had been given the order to run blood tests and to call the cadiology department to assist them in a cardiac catheterization.

Fujikawa came up to the female doctor, lightly bumping his ellbow in her upper arm.  
"That was quite the start, eh? I don't remember the last time Doctor Heli had to fly this early in the morning." He smirked.

Shiraishi smiled back. "Yes, you're right. I'm glad it went well." She surpressed a yawn. Fujikawa, Hiyama and Saejima had been at the bar yesterday, along with Ogata-san, to have a drink together before Hiyama and the chef would go on vacation for several days to a hot spring. Aizawa had been present too, in his own manner, sitting in his lone edge while causally listening to everything that was discussed, occasionally voicing his opinions on several topics. Hiyama had been very delightful about their trip, and – partially because she was happy, partially because she was kind of nervous – had forced Shiraishi to stay longer than she had wanted to.

"Now, now, flight doctor, don't start to sleep in here. You never know when they'll call for you again. You don't seem to regenerate as fast as before from long nights, do you? You're getting old.", he said and smirked, earning a wack on his arm by his wife for saying something like this aloud. He winced.

Aizawa entered the treatment room, grabbing surgical gloves. He was just coming back from sending a patient to the ICU that had arrived with the ambulance. He shot a glance at Fujikawa, clearly having heard what he said, then silently observed Shiraishi's complexion.

"Eh?", she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she turned to Fujikawa. The latter only shrugged his shoulders, smiling apologetically while glancing at his intimidating wife that towered over him. Shiraishi was still looking quite confused when the telephone rang and she rushed to get it.

"This is Shohoku Dmergency department."

"This is Tsudanuma Fire Department requesting for Doctor Heli." Shiraishi held the receiver in her hand, waiting patiently for more information.

"It sure is busy this morning.", Aizawa exclaimed. Yokomine and Natori entered the treatment room.

"A bicyclist has collided with a motorcycler near Kikutamizutori Park." Shiraishi looked over to the CS who showed her they were good to go.

"Roger. Dispatching."

Yokomine entered the treatment room, leading the convoy of doctors and nurses that accompanied the stretcher. The male patient was intubated, and Natori and Haitani proceeded to do the FAST and to get a line while Saejima explained the patient's vitals.

"Harada Makoto, in his 60s, has collided with a motorcycle while riding a bicycle. GCS has been 9 on location, now is 12. He has a pelvis fracture that has been stabilised on location, blood pressure was 135/86 on location, it has dropped ever since."

Yukimura connected the patient with the monitor as Natori passed the echo over the chest and abdomen of their patient.

"No free liquids in the pericardium. Negative for the perihepatic space either." He stopped, and frowned his eyes a little to get a clearer view. "Positive for the region of the pelvis and the perisplenic space."

"As expected, the spleen is ruptured.", Shiraishi sighed, glancing to the ugly dark haematoma visible just below the first ripple on the left side of the patient's body. Her gaze fell to the blood pressure that was dropping more and more. "Let's perform a labaratomy. We might be able to save the spleen, still."

Shiraishi, along with Yokomine, Fujikawa, Saejima and Yukimura, quickly dressed in a surgical gown and putting on gloves before stepping back towards the stretcher. A surgical blanket was draped over the patient's legs and chest before Shiraishi asked for the scalpel and made the first incision.

Aizawa, in the meantime standing next to Makoto-san's head, grabbed his penlight and controlled the light reflex in both eyes.

"He has aniosocoria. I highly suspect traumatic brain injury, as soon as you are done here, we should get a CT performed." He glanced over to Shiraishi, who nodded and reciprocated his gaze.

"I understand."

Shiraishi stood outside of the X-ray room as she waited for the images to turn up on the screen of the computer. Yokomine and Natori were sitting in front of her, the female fellow absentmindedly twirling the strands of her hair around her finger. Shiraishi leaned against the desk behind her, supporting her head with one arm, while she tried her hardest not to yawn again.  
She was frustrated, particularly by her own behaviour. What had she been thinking, staying out with Hiyama so long that she could barely keep her eyes open right now? She sighed lowly, rubbing her forehead. The door opened and Aizawa stepped into the room. He acknowledged the presence of his fellow doctors with a slight nod of his head before situating himself next to Shiraishi, leaning against the desk and handing her a can of coffee.

"You looked tired.", he exclaimed as she was shooting him a questionnable look.

"We aren't supposed to drink beverages in here. But thank you.", she told him. He just shrugged, turning back towards the computer and crossing his arms in front of him.

"The images are here.", he announced and right on cue, four doctor's heads leaned in towards the computer's screen. Shiraishi had ordered a full-body CT scan, because Makoto-san was a polytrauma patient after all and they had to make sure there where no haemorrhages present in his body anymore.

Aizawa studied the scans and turned to Natori. "What would you suspect?"

The young doctor thought about it, pressing his lips together. "Uhm, it seems like there is a traumatic brain injury present."

"Go on."

"I'd say it is a focal moderate traumatic brain injury." Aizawa nodded once.

"Why?"

"There is a slight swelling of the brain presented in the scan, along with a light haemorrhage within the hemispheres and a subdural hematoma on the left."

"What are you planning to do?"

"Well, it is a cerebral contusion which is bound to increase the intracranial pressure, so treatment would be focused on reducing the pressure inside his brain. In that sense, and given that there is haemorrhage within the brain, I would advice a decompressive craniectomy."

"Good. But I would have decompressive craniectomy as my last resort." Aizawa straightened himself, walking back to the desk and leaning against it. "Ajust the patient's bed in a way that his upper body is kept in an elevated position. Sedation with benzodiapezine and propofol, and close monitoring. Should the intracranial pressure increase, contact me immediately."

Natori nodded, moving to go get the patient, when the radiologist frowned and moved closer to the screen. Yokomine noticed that, moving closer herself, then giving a start that catched both the seniors' attention.

"Is that – ", Yokomine began. Shiraishi studied the scan, then frowned. There were no suspective dots or regions on the scans, not in the affected areas, except one. The scan of the chest showed a greyish matter in the left lung.

"A tumor, yes." Yokomine and Natori exchanged glances, suddenly very serious. Aizawa wordlessly grabbed his phone, and dialed the number of the Pulmonology Department.

 _After a peak in 1970, with a total of 16,765 traffic accidents, Japan enhanced measures to decrease the number. In 2015, traffic accidents dropped to one quarter of the number we had in 1970. Traffic accidents are no longer on the top ten of causes of death. As flight doctors and nurses, we deal a lot with traffic accidents. It is soothing to know that the efforts we take, in diagnostics, fast first aid on location and good team work are not going unnoticed. Being a polytrauma patient is very severe, but today, it does not mean that you are dying anymore._

 _Even more frustrating it is, when we try so hard, yet are faced with another hindrance, because the symptoms had gone unnoticed. Cancer is an evil disease; symptoms can be hardly or not noticable at all, and when patients experience pain, the cancer has moved to a higher stage that is more difficult to treat.  
This, the aggressive treatment and the possibility to die from it makes cancer probably one of the most feared diseases in this world. Lung cancer, which is one of the more frequent forms, is number 5 on the top ten of 2016. It has been stagnant for 11 years._

Shiraishi was sitting in the office, typing her report on Makoto-san into the computer, when Aizawa entered the room. He glanced quickly at her, before sitting himself opposite her, opening the computer himself.

"They said it was an adenocarcinoma stage 2." Aizawa nodded without lifting his head from the computer.

"And to all of that, he might still need the decompressive craniectomy."

Shiraishi glanced at him. "That's a lot to deal with. He survived a collision with a motorcycle only to learn that he has lung cancer."

"One could argue it was his luck to be in the accident, or we wouldn't have found out about his tumor now. But nevertheless – " He looked up into her eyes. "You're right." They fell silent for quite a moment, mustering eachh other's eyes before turning back to type their reports.

Shiraishi looked at the alarm clock at the wall and groaned audibly. Aizawa turned his attention to her and followed her gaze.

"It's already three o'clock and I should fill out the forms for the fellows, do my rounds and finish three reports." She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the pale skin.

"Really, Shiraishi, you should look after yourself more."

She shook her head, smiling. 'Don't worry, I'm just tired of yesterday. I will get a good rest tonight, and I'll be fine tomorrow morning."

Aizawa frowned more, not believing one word of what she babbled about. Shiraishi had been exhausted for the past few days, as she had been on numerous flights and had tried to support the fellows as much as she could. Winter was a season where the Lifesaving department tended to be busier than normal, and with Hiyama gone and Fujikawa stepping down from Doctor Heli, Aizawa was the only one who would rotate with Shiraishi on flight duties. But not for long, because Toronto was almost at their doorsteps.

Shiraishi was tired of the work overload, worried about the Lifesaving team and sad about her comrade's departures, although she would never say that aloud. Aizawa hated to see her in that state. They would leave her behind, leaving the fate of Lifesaving in her hands, and although Tachibana would stay, Aizawa felt selfish to decide to go to Toronto.

He stood up and walked around the edge of the desk, taking his chair with him. Shiraishi watched him, astoundished.

"Show me these forms.", he said, stretching out his hand.

"Eh? No, Aizawa, I couldn't possibly – "

"You can. I'm their superior too. Now show me." He said sternly, but he smiled. They fell silent yet again as Aizawa proceeded to scribble down notes for Shiraishi while she was busy with her report on Haitani. It had been a hard year for him, she thought. Out of all the fellows, he probably was the most sensitive one. He did well with his patients, knew what to say to them and was very eager to help them. But he was nervous too, losing himself in the struggle to save someone, and it almost broke him. _If only he'd have the confidence and talent of Aizawa,_ she thought. They both seemed to be quite similar to one another. She remembered the day Haitani had come back to work after his accident. She had tried so hard to find out if the fall was intentional, even got in an argument with Hiyama, but Aizawa on the other hand had stayed calm.

He let Haitani do the things he needed to do, and – Shiraishi was sure of that – he understood the young fellow, as they both shared a strong passion for their patients. Haitani had gradually improved ever since then, and he became a very competent emergency doctor. Not before long, and he would become a young Aizawa. She chuckled at that thought.

Aizawa looked up and glanced at her, but didn't say anything. Shiraishi surpressed a yawn again, and with a look to the clock, she sighed inwardly. It was half past three. She did not seem to make any progress, and although she was exhausted, she couldn't get another coffee just now, she already had three. She thought about the thing Fujikawa said this morning, and although she didn't get offended by it and ignored him, it got her thinking. She never felt so tired after a night out with her colleagues. Maybe she _was_ getting old.  
She had been a flight doctor for over a decade now, but it didn't feel like that. On the contrary, time seemed to fly so fast.

"Aizawa-sensei.", she began suddenly, not lifting her gaze of the window it drifted towards. He looked at her. "Do you ever think how it is going to end?"

He frowned. "What? What are you saying?"

Shiraishi straightened in her chair, turning towards him. "Haitani-sensei and the other fellows are almost at the end of the fellowship. If they keep up their good work, they have a good chance to pass and become flight doctors. I still remember their first day like it was just yesterday. Time moves so fast."

Aizawa nodded silently, still looking at her.

"Yokomine-sensei told me this morning that she had been on a girl's night out with Yukimura-san yesterday. They had gone to a party, so she said." Shiraishi chuckled when she remembered the happy blabbering of the young doctor. "She bounced around the treatment room, laughed whole-heartedly in the helicopter and gave her best on location. She was boosting of energy. All I could think of was getting back into my bed this evening and sleep. I sure am getting old." She met his confused gaze, then murmured: "I'm sorry, about my babble. I asked a very personal question, forget it."

"Don't listen to something this idiot Fujikawa said." Aizawa replied, continuing to write. "It has been a stressful week for you, no wonder you feel tired. This has nothing to do with your age." He watched her lean back in her chair, nodding silently and focusing her gaze on the window again.

"I'm not offended by what he said. On the contrary, I'm starting to think that he might be right. The long shifts, the lack of sleep, the work we do. It doesn't go noticed, at least not to the people around us. Fujikawa is not the first one, I've been called 'senior doctor' or 'elderly doctor' now and then."

Aizawa frowned. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something more, but shut it again when he saw her picking up her work on the notes. He regressed his notes and let her stay in deep thoughts.

An hour later, as Shiraishi had finished the forms and came back from her rounds, the emergency phone rang again. With large steps, and another dose of coffeine flooding through her veins, she ran towards the helipad.

Shiraishi was sitting inside the helicopter, watching Yokomine who hummed a litle melody while playing with one of her hair, occasionally nodding to herself as if she was reminding herself of the steps she would do first on location. Shiraishi looked out of the window. Shohoku was slowly vanishing beyond the clouds behind them, and she thought back to the conversation she had in the office.

 _Patients will ask their doctor questions they constantly are thinking about. How long is the operation going to take? What kind of side effects can occur? We doctors are determined to sooth the fears a patient might feel befor his surgery. We answer clearly, self-confident, because this is the way our patient will see us as competent. We try not to give false promises, we're honest.  
I wonder if this is why a doctor never likes to talk about the vary things. It might be because we secretly are always hunting for the reason why a patient is sick. Like detectives, we want to seek out the culprit, we want to be able to explain why something happens. _

_How is it going to end for us? This is something we are not able to answer. Something we can't know, and we don't know what happens after that, either. Thinking about this makes us uncomfortable, because this is where our medical knowledge turns against us; we know the hard procedures a patient has to endure, we see their suffer. As a doctor we maintain a healthy distance towards our patients, which is so important for us to continue being doctors. But we fear the day when we might be in the same situation as them._

Yokomine's voice brought Shiraishi back from her train of thoughts.

"Could you tell me more about our patient?", she asked via radio.

"The patient is a male construction worker in his 30s. It appears he has fallen down from a height of approximately three meters as the construction he stood on got loose. The patient is conscious, he complains about back pain."

"Did he fell on his back?"

"I'm afraid we don't know. From his position on the ground, it is highly suspected. However, it may be that he rolled off by himself."

Yokomine nodded and thanked the firefighter on location. "Please fixate the patient's neck and don't let him move at all." She turned her attention towards Shiraishi while picking out her phone.

"A fall from a height of three meters has probably caused damage to his brain. I will consult neurosurgery." Shiraishi stopped her in her tracks before she could finish dialling the number.

"A good thought, but you might want to wait until you see the patient on location. There is very little you might be able to tell them about the patient's condition just now."

Yokomine nodded, putting her phone back into her pocket.

Yokomine exited the helicopter first, Shiraishi and Saejima close behind her. Their patient lay on his back on the solid mud ground, several of his colleagues surrounding him. Yokomine kneeled down near the patient.

"I'm Yokomine-sensei from Shohoku Hospital, how are you? What's your name?", she asked the patient while giving firm pressure on his shoulder.

"Takahashi Hiroshi.", the patient answered, his voice weak. A colleague of his was leaning over him, looking worried.

"Please, sensei, help him!" He lunged forward, as his colleague frowned in pain and Shiraishi quickly moved over to the colleague, gripping his shoulder tightly. "Takahashi-san is in good hands, please let Yokomine-sensei examine him in order to treat him." The man seemed to struggle against her grips for several seconds before he glanced at Yokomine who was totally absorbed by her work.

"Takahashi-sensei, can you grasp my hand?" The patient obliged, grabbing the hand of Yokomine in a weak grip. "Can you move your feet?", Yokomine asked again and smiled when she saw his feet slightly moving. She quickly proceeded in her steps, looking for bone fractures.

"He shouldn't have been on the construction.", the man beside Shiraishi began. "I told him to come down and get a snack with me before we would get back to work again. It's not healthy to stand on your feet all day without drinking something, you get dehydrated. He should know better too, he has worked with us for ages. But this idiot –" He smiled bitterly. "Didn't want to listen. 'I'm just going to finish here, go ahead. I tell him to leave the more difficult parts to the younger ones, he has problems from a leg injury a few years ago, but he's stubborn.'" Shiraishi didn't respond, loosening the grip on his arm. She looked to the patient laying in front of her.

It took him less than a second to fall from a height of three meters and be in this kind of condition, after working for years on constructions like these. He was not older than her.

Shiraishi suddenly felt unnerved and took in her surroundings, turning her attention away from the construction worker and the patient.

Shiraishi observed a police man coming over to her and moved, so that she was standing a little bit away from the patient, but within earsight to hear Yokomine if she needed help.

"Either my colleague or me might accompany the patient to the hospital, sensei." The police man said, his voice lowered, glancing at the patient.

Shiraishi looked at him, astoundished. "May I ask why?"

"It seems that Takahashi-san fell down from the construction even though he has been working in this field for a long time already. A witness states he might have been shoved down."

"Shoved down?", Shiraishi echoed, looking towards the several construction workers that assembled around the site. One fell to her eye; a man crouching in the edge near his bag, secluded by the others.

"Have they been in a fight?", she asked. The police man shook his head.

"Not as far as I'm concerned. We have been called here a short while ago, I didn't hear anything about a quarrel up there", he signed to the construction. "But I don't know very much about this case either. It might be a case of envy too, people do all sorts of things out of bizarre motives nowadays. We will have to interrogate Takahashi-san, as soon as it is possible." Shiraishi mustered the police man, before speaking sternly. She wouldn't allow any interference when they hadn't even fully examined his condition yet.

"I'm afraid this has to wait. We will have to transport him to Shohoku via heli as soon as possible. There is no seat vacant either." She bowed apologetically.

"I understand.", the police man answered, bowing before he walked back to his colleague.

"He has a pelvic fracture. Pass me the echo please." Yokomine called out and Saejima obliged. Yokomine passed the echo over the patient's abdomen, finally turning to Shiraishi who was busy getting a line.

"FAST is negative." Shiraishi nodded.

"Your diagnosis?"

"Pelvic fracture with highly suspected traumatic brain injury. I wouldn't rule out a spine injury yet. I'll fixate him and stabilise him for transport." She stabilised the head with a neck collar.

The colleague of Takahashi-san seemed to be relieved, he hung his head. Takahashi smiled.

"You heard that, Yamamoto? It's going to be okay.", he squeezed the arm of his friend, patting it lightly. Yamamoto-san nodded, glancing at Shiraishi with a grin visible on his face. She smiled back.

"He's going to be okay, isn't he, sensei?"

"His pelvic is fractured, which is a dangerous condition. He will require a surgery and a CT scan for his head, since he hit it quite hard on the ground." Shiraishi said calmly. "But for now, he's stable."

Shiraishi stood up and signed Hayakawa-san to bring the stretcher. Working as a team, they carefully heaved the patient onto the stretcher and took of into the helicopter's direction. The pilot looked onto his watch.

"It's almost five. Good timing.", Hayakawa-san murmured. Shiraishi smiled and quickly turned towards the paramedic to announce their leave when she saw Takahashi's friend moving away from the stretcher. Curious, she turned her head, only to find him straightly walking over to the construction worker that sat in the edge, seeming deep in thoughts.

"Oi, Kimura." Yamamoto-san huffed, very annoyed. "Don't you think you should say something, too?" His stance broad, he built himself up in front of the man in the edge, hovering menacily over him.

Kimura-san, a man with dark bangs hiding his forehead, thick eyebrows and a light beard, turned his head towards Yamamoto-san. "What are you saying?"

Shiraishi frowned, quietly observing the scene. It seemed there had been a fight before they arrived on location. Yamamoto-san seemed to be quite agitated. He moved closer towards the other man, gripping him by the collar of his jacket. Instinctively, she began to approach them. She quickened her step as she saw Yamamoto-san gripping the younger construction worker tighter.

"Don't try to play it down! We saw you on the construction with him! What were you trying to do? Were you envious?"

"Let go of me." There was something off about Kimura-san, Shiraishi thought. He was unnaturely calm, and visibly stiff. He glared at Yamamoto-san, like a hurt animal that was surrounded by enemys, pressing itself against the wall behind it, the way forward the only place to escape. In other words, prone to attack in order to flee.

"Yamamoto-san, please let him go.", Shiraishi interjected. She put a hand on his arm again, looking him sternly in the eyes. But they ignored her. She saw both men stirr, felt the atmosphere tensing. The following happened in a flash.

Yamamoto-san gripped Kimura-san firmer than before, in a threatening position, pulling him on his legs. Kimura- san suddenly moved, raising his leg and proceed to kick Yamamoto-san right in the gut, so hard that the man fell down to the ground.

Kimura-san was hovering over the other construction worker, his fist balled. Shiraishi quickly stood between them, shooting a warning glance at Kimura-san before turning to Yamamoto-san.

"Yamamoto-san, are you okay?", she asked, crouching down in front of him and offering a hand. The man rubbed his stomach and stood up slowly, with her help.

"Yes, thank you, sensei, I'm – "He stopped dead. "Kimura, what are you -? "Horrified shouts of the construction workers echoed behind Yamamoto-san.

 _During high-stressed situations, it is common to experience time slowing down, as if someone hit a button on a remote control. The phenomenon is called slow motion perception; our brain receives massive amounts of data it has to process. This takes an influence onto our brain's perception of time, and we experience the moment as longer whereas the time for a bystander runs in normal speed._

"Shiraishi-sensei!"

Shiraishi turned, surprised by the commotion, only to look straight into the empty eyes of Kimura-san. Her gaze shifted to his hands, widening with horror when she realized he held a shotgun. She opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to bring out a tone. Kimura-san slowly raised his hands, pointing straight into her direction. She tried to back away, to run, but she couldn't. She stared right into the rifle.

 _It is believed that this mechanism is an evolutionary adaption to our environment, a way to increase human survival rates. We think quicker._

Shiraishi heared a horrified scream of Yamamoto-san behind her. Her mind was racing. _Think Shiraishi, think. Make a move!_ She frantically screamed in her mind. But the emergency doctor in her didn't kick in. She was paralysed. Kimura-san positioned his shotgun. She tried to cry out, but couldn't. Her arms moved in front of her, shielding her head as much as she could. She managed to make one step back.

 _The number of death cases resulting from firearms in 2014 was six. Japan therefore was second-lowest among 34 OECD countries after Iceland, with the US being ranked the worst with 33,599. Strict gun laws in Japan have almost eradicated gun crime._

 _It's funny how – of all the ways it could end – it's going to be just that._

Shiraishi was rooted to the spot. She heard the gunshot, before she fell to the ground.

* * *

For the medical details in this first part, I feel like it's already explained in the context, but if you don't understand it (or if it's incorrect because I'm honestly not sure, I don't work in that field) don't hesitate to write me. But I should mention the sources I got all these facts and figures from:

 **Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation; Japan:** japan

 **BBC News; How Japan has almost eradicated gun crime:** news/magazine-38365729

 **The Japanese Times; What are the chances of a mass shooting in Japan? :** . /news/2016/06/13/national/crime-legal/what-are-the-chances-of-a-mass-shooting-in-japan/#.Wl9emYWcGDs

 **WHO; WHO Mortality Database:** .int/healthinfo/mortality_data/en/

Almost 100% of my research comes from newspaper articles, so there might be errors in these facts or they might not be up to date.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** I initially wanted to update this much sooner, but I was on vacation and had exams, I am really sorry for not updating sooner. Also, thank you for your kind reviews, I was happy to read them.  
Again, I felt like T matches for the chapter, but here and now a **major warning:** there are explicit **mentions of death, violence and psychological traumata** , so if this is not yours, don't read it.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Code Blue and his characters. The medical procedures mentioned are based on internet research and may not be accurate.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Have you heard anything?", Tachibana turned towards the neurosurgeon that entered the treatment room, putting on surgical gloves.

"Not yet.", Tachibana glanced at the phone in front of him, the white board stil empty, a pen in his hand. "How is Makoto-san?"

Aizawa raised his eyebrows and sighed. "He's closely monitored. But I have a feeling he might still need the decompressive craniectomy."

Tachibana nodded gravely. "I see."

"Eh? They didn't call yet?", Fujikawa exclaimed when he entered the room. He looked from Tachibana to Aizawa, then smirked. "They sure are taking their time, aren't they? I'm so looking forward to dinner today, my stomach is grumbling!"

Aizawa glanced side-ways at his colleague, almost rolling his eyes. "What? I wasn't able to eat my lunch, since _somebody_ had to call me to an emergency." Fujikawa rolled his eyes. "I swear, I don't know how Shiraishi does it, always running from one point to the other. I would faint."

"It's just like her, to worry so much about Lifesaving.", Tachibana said. "Her devotion to it is why she became staff leader." He smiled.

Aizawa didn't add anything to it, but he thought back to the complexion she had throughout the day, and he couldn't help but to agree. She was taking her profession to the next level, and he was worried she might get too far. Forcing herself to the point of exhaustion; and then thinking it wa a failure of herself to feel tired. He scoffed inwardly when he remembered her thinking she was going to get old. She was still so young and in her best days, brimming of life energy, soft and flawless skin, warm hands to touch –

He closed his eyes to remind him to concentrate. His mind had drifted towards her, again. It had been particularly difficult these days, ever since he had returned to Lifesaving. Shiraishi had become important to him, an interesting person in his life, and although he had come to meet a lot of people in his lifetime he looked up to, he knew this was going beyond the simple warm feelings towards a colleague. He smirked at that. He really had the urge to decline the offer to go to Toronto and settle down. Maybe _he_ was the one that was getting old.

The ringing of a phone brought him back from his thoughts. But as he looked over to Tachibana, he realized it was not the emergency phone, it was the elder doctor's PHS.

Puzzled, Tachibana answered.

"Yokomine?"

"Tachibana-sensei? This is Yokomine."

"I can see your name on the display. What's the matter? It took you a while to call."

"There are more patients that we knew of when we got here."

"More patients?", Tachibana lifted his eyebrows. Didn't the rescuers say something of a fall from high ground?" He heard a commotion in the back ground and frowned even more. "Yokomine? What's wrong?"

There is a silence on the other hand of the phone, only disrupted by a soft sob.

"Yokomine.", Tachibana urged.

"There has been a shooter on location." Tachibana stilled. He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Aizawa noticed his stiff stance, and glanced worried at Fujikawa. They didn't know what was going on.

"A shooter? Is anybody hurt?", Tachibana echoed. It couldn't have become quieter in the treatment room. Aizawa's eyes shot towards Tachibana's phone, widening, a deep frown visible on his forehead. Fujikawa paled, his lips trembled as he opened his mouth to speak, before he gripped for his phone and dialed the number of the person dearest to his heart.

Natori and Haitani entered the room, puzzled at the shocked stares of their surperiors. "What's wrong?", Natori asked, but Aizawa silenced him with a sign of his hand. He moved closer towards Tachibana. While Fujikawa was still frantically trying to get Saejima to answer her phone, the neurosurgeon rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he would always do, his jaw so stiff it hurt him. He felt the tension in every bit of his muscles, a wave of anxiety and horror washing over him. Tachibana still didn't face them, and Aizawa feared to know why.

"Who is it?", he simply asked. Tachibana turned towards him. Aizawa hardly ever saw him shocked like this.

"Shiraishi-sensei!" Shiraish's head was dizzy, she felt cold and muddy dirt beneath her fingers. She lightly flexed them, grasping at a crumb in the mud. She needed a few seconds to wrap her mind around what happened. Right. The patient that fell from high ground. His friend. And – she stilled. The shot. She opened her eyes, smelling the soil benath her. She was laying on her right side.

"Shiraishi-sensei!" The voice became clearer, and Shiraishi slowly lifted herself up, testing her limbs for any sign of injury.

"Saejima-san?", she asked, finally sitting up and looking at the worried flight nurse, which was very relieved to see her friend still with her.

"Shiraishi-sensei.", she quickly mustered her friend. "You don't seem to be injured.", she exclaimed, grabbing the female doctor's shoulders. At this action, Shiraishi winced. Shiraishi wiggled out of her flight jacket. She turned her right arm and exposed a long deep gash across her upper arm almost going to her shoulder.

"It grazed you.", Saejima acknowledged and reached for her first aid kit. She grabbed a gauze and desinfected and bandaged the grazing wound as best as she could. She noticed Shiraishi turning her head, taking in her surroundings.

"Kimura-san?", Shiraishi asked, but her gaze fell to the person laying in front of her. Rescuers were draping a white cloth over him. A bloody gash in his chest, the shotgun laying next to him. Both police men standing around him, one securing the scene, the other frantically talking to somebody on the phone. She remembered the construction worker that had been standing behind her.

"Where is Yamamoto-san?", she asked. Saejima finished bandaging, stopping in her tracks for a moment. She frowned deepily, looking towards the man that was lying behind them. Yokomine was applying pressure to a chest wound, frantically calling something to the rescuers. Shiraishi saw the tears straining her face, the trembling hands, and with a sigh, she lifted herself up.

"Shiraishi-sensei.", Saejima began, her hands lingering on Shiraishi's arm to steady her.

"Yamamoto-san is in need of immediate medical attention. I'm fine, don't worry, Saejima-san. Thank you for treating my wound." Shiraishi smiled and kneeled next to Yokomine. She left Saejima crouching on the ground, looking after her friend. Saejima didn't quite trust the situation, especially Shiraishi's behavior.

Shiraishi grabbed the shoulder of the young fellow firmly, who turned abruptly. A look of relief washed over Yokomine's face as she recognised Shiraishi sitting by her side.

"Alright, Yokomine-san, I take it from here. Please call Tachibana-sensei and report that there is another patient on the way. You did very well." Yokomine nodded, standing up and grabbing her PHS.

Shiraishi looked at Yamamoto-san. The man was laying on his back, a sterile patch over a gashing wound in his chest. His breath was laboured, his eyes half-lidded, but he looked at her. She grabbed his upper arm, squeezing it.

"Yamamoto-san, can you hear me?" The construction worker nodded faintly, not leaving his eyes of her. Shiraishi smiled. She turned to the rescuer next to her.

"Please help me turn him to the side. I need to know if there is an exit wound." The rescuer obliged, and they turned Yamamoto-san on cue, who winced loudly at the movement.

Yamamoto-san's colleagues, held back from several rescuers at a time, called out frantically and told their friend to hold on.

"No exit bullet is still stuck in his body. Let's transport him on his back." Shiraishi called Saejima over, and proceeded to get a line. She examined the patch over his wound. It sealed the hole in his chest, for now. But he still was at high risk for a tension pneumothorax. His injury was life threatening. Shiraishi sighed.  
Yokomine, as a fellow, was too inexperienced to deal with a gun shot wound. On top of that, Shiraishi doubted that the young doctor was able to treat a case like this right now. Her hands were trembling while she held her PHS, and she had trouble speaking to Tachibana. She was in shock and Shiraishi didn't want to send her onto an ambulance, but she had to. Yamamoto's condition could deteriorate anytime, while Takahashi seemed to be stable and concious. She had no choice.

Shiraishi turned towards the rescuers. "Please help us get this patient onto a stretcher. Yamamoto-san has priority to fly with the helicopter. Takahashi-san will be accompanied to Shohoku via ambulance." The rescuers nodded and bowed, following the orders. Shiraishi moved over to Yokomine who just finished her call with Tachibana.

"Yokomine-sensei.", she said calmly. "I want you to accompany Takahashi to Shohoku via ambulance."

Yokomine's eyes widened. "Me? But I, I – "

Shiraishi grabbed her arms, holding them carefully. "Yamamoto-san's condition is highly unstable. He has priority for the helicopter. It's too late for the helicopter to fly twice. Takahashi is concious, he is stable. And you have dealt with a lot of pelvic fractures ever since you started your fellowship with us. You know the drill."

Yokomine was not persuaded. "But, I'm – "

Shiraishi made her look at her. "Yokomine-sensei, what are your first steps going to be in the ambulance?"

"Uhm." Yokomine frantically tried to think. "I will stabilise him for transport inside of the ambulance. Monitoring his vitals closely."

Shiraishi nodded. "The FAST was negative. Just to be sure, proceed to do another one inside the ambulance." She glanced over at Takahashi. "His saturation was a little low before. Get the ambu bag." She smiled at Yokomine calmly. "You know what there is to do. I will always be on the radio if ever you should need me. And you will reach Shohoku before you know it."

Yokomine nodded, smiling weakily. She bowed and entered the ambulance, closing the doors behind her. The vehicle took uf, sirens sounding loud and shrill.

Shiraishi took of towards the helicopter where they just finished loading in the patient.

"Saejima-san, please keep the equipment for a tension pneumothorax ready.", Shiraishi said lowly in the helicopter. She looked at the monitor and put a oxigen mask over Yamamoto-san's mouth and nose. She pushed the button for the radio and adjusted her headset.

"This is Shohoku Doctor Heli. The patient is a young male in his 30s named Yamamoto Ichijou. Chest wound due to a gunshot, no sign for a tension pneumothorax."

"Roger.", Tachibana's voice sounded through the radio.

"Landing is estimated to be in 3 minutes.", the pilot announced and Shiraishi nodded to herself. She leaned down, adjusting the mask again and tiping something on the monitor, examining the vitals. Silence settled in, though filled with a kind of tenseness. Saejima stole glances at Shiraishi now and then, looking very worried. Yamamoto-san tried to breathe as normal as he could, but even the pain medication couldn't do something against the stirring sensation he felt in his chest. His eyes moved frantically to and fro between the doctor and the nurse, taking in his surroundings. Only Shiraishi seemed to be calm, doing her work as she would do it every day.  
Saejima's PHS rang, and her face showed a soft expression when she saw the caller's ID: It was Fujikawa, asking her what happened. Shiraishi turned her head away, giving them as much privacy as she could, when she felt a grip on the hem of her slacks.

Looking down, she stared into Yamamoto-san's wide eyes, who struggled to move the mask away from his mouth. She reached down to help him.

"Shiraishi-sensei.", he rasped. "How is Takahashi?"

"He's stable, Yamamoto-san.", she smiled. "He's conscious. Yokomine-sensei is accompanying him via ambulance to Shohoku."

Yamamoto-san tried to nod slightly, looking at the ceiling of the helicopter.

"That's good. ", he said. His fist balled the hem of his own shirt, and Shiraishi noticed his knuckles turning white. "That idiot Kimura. What was he thinking?", he scoffed, frowning, but tears were clearly visible in his eyes. He turned his head slightly away from Shiraish who listened patiently. "He should know better than to solve his problems with a shotgun."

Saejima looked up, listening to Fujikawa on the phone, looking at Yamamoto-san. He was focusing his eyes on the solid ground of the heli, his fist balled and his jaw stiff, frantically trying not to lose his mind. Saejima's eyes shifted to Shiraishi, worried. The staff leader sat on the other side of Saejima, hands resting in her lap, her head lowered. Her gaze was relaxed, concentrated.

"You know, sensei." Yamamoto-san spoke again, disrupting the uneasy silence that had settled over the heli. "I didn't see him." The corners of his mouth turned up into an empty smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I had no idea what happened on the construction. I was working on the ground, preparing several instruments I would have to take up with me after the break. It happened so fast. I heard a shout and then I saw Takahashi fall to the ground.", he winced at the pain in his chest and swallowed hard. "All I can remember when I looked up is Kimura standing on the construction with a mortified expression in his face. I didn't see anything." Yamamoto-san's eyes stared back at the ceiling, tears forming inside them.

"I remember rushing to Takahashi's side. He just had been laying there. Motionless. I thought we'd have lost him. And when the others began to shout at Kimura, calling him guilty, I got angry and believed it too." Tears were streaming down his cheeks, as he looked at Shiraishi, pressing his lips together.  
"He was the new one. He didn't do a good job at blending in, and he wasn't very talented as a construction worker either. I understand we gave him a hard time too. We didn't take him with us when we went for a drink, we made him do the things no one wanted to do, we mocked him behind his back." He closed his eyes. "And when the others were blaming him, I thought it was the only plausible reason that I could accept. That he was jealous of Takahashi's popularity in the team. That he wanted to take his revenge." He stilled.

"It was a cruel witch-hunt on a person that didn't deserve it. We were bullies acting immature, but – "He stopped, letting out a barely audible sob. "Not for once would I have believed this guy would turn up one day with a shotgun in his bag."

Shiraishi, who had been calmly listening to everything Yamamoto-san had to say, unlatched her seatbelt and leaned down, grabbing one balled fist in her hand, stroking it in a consoling way until he finally relaxed, letting his emotions take over. Saejima had put her phone back into the pocket of her overall, wiping tears from her face that didn't cease to come. She looked out of the window. It was probably one of the most silent rides back to the hospital she had ever endured.

The rotors of a helicopter are very loud. It is usually the first thing you notice about it's upcoming arrival, telling that help is within earsight. Right now, it was deafening, so loud it was almost unbearable.  
Aizawa stood next to Fujikawa on the helipad, waiting for the helicopter to land. A strong wind ruffled through his hair. The heli didn't come a moment too early. Dark clouds were forming at the horizon, the weather changing, the temperature steadily dropping. Both senior doctors stood in the front, Haitani and two nurses keeping a somewhat safe distance towards the flight doctors.  
Aizawa tried to ignore the frantic beat of his heart in his chest. He had wanted to call Shiraishi the moment Tachibana had told them what happened. It was the first thing that came to his mind. Shiraishi had been shot. Of all the things that could happen to her on location, she had been shot. And although Yokomine had told them that she was alive and giving treatment to the second victim, he had wanted to hear her voice. Just to know she's alive and breathing, coming back. But he didn't know how shaken she was of the events and decided not to call her. All the more why he desperately wanted to see her now.

Fujikawa rubbed his thumb over his PHS before he turned to Aizawa.

"Haruka said Shiraishi didn't hesitate to treat the shooting victim even though she had been grazed by the shot." He lowered his head, his eyes trailing to his feet. "The gunman was taken down on location by the police. He died right there. His corpse is going to be transported to Shohoku via a second ambulance to confirm his death. This hospital's emergency is going to overflow with police officers in a matter of time." Aizawa didn't respond. His eyes still focused on the helicopter that touched the ground in this moment, he began to move forward, a deep frown visible on his face.  
He was anxious. Anxious to walk over to the heli. Tempted to tear open the door, grabbing her by her shoulders, taking a good look at her from head to toe. Fujikawa followed him, jogging lightly to keep up with his great strides, the fellow and the nurses close behind them.

The mechanic opened the door, and Shiraishi and Saejima sprang out, the flight nurse holding the IV over her head. Fujikawa came up next to his wife, looking worriedly at her. Saejima smiled at him, shaking a little.

"Yamamoto Ichijou, in his 30s, blood pressure in the heli was 145/94 bpm. Patient is conscious and responsive."

"On my count.", Shiraishi said. "One, two, three." They moved the patient on another stretcher, Aizawa gripping the side of it while rushing towards the emergency. He stole a glance at Shiraishi, observing her. She was calm and concentrated, not showing any sign of what she just had experienced. He doubted this could ever be a good sign. His eyes trailed towards the destroyed material on the right arm sleeve of her flight jacket, and his hand gripped the stretcher tighter. Only now did he realize that he had been trying to avoid the fact, but it hit him clearly now; she had been grazed, and this was a real fact. It had been a close call. He lifted his eyes of her, focusing on the patient whose breath was coming more laboured every second.

Shiraishi examined the patch over the chest wound again. "Yokomine-sensei will arrive with the next ambulance. She is accompanying the patient that fell from the construction, a construction worker named Takahashi Hiroshi, also in his 30s. She has informed me a few minutes ago that Takahashi-san's condition is stable for now. But he has a pelvic fracture, and I highly suspect a traumatic brain injury too. Fujikawa-sensei, as soon as their arrival is announced, please go to receive the patient from the ambulance, take Natori-sensei with you. Haitani-sensei, please call for Neurosurgery Department to have a consultation about Takahashi-san."

"Yes." Haitani and Fujikawa retorted in unison. They entered the treatment room. There was an unnatural silence creeping through the room. No one knew what to say, glancing unsure from one to the other. Shiraishi was the first to break the silence. She listed the patient's vitals again, and informed Tachibana of the current situation with both patients.

The Chief of the Emergency Department walked over to her side. "Shiraishi." He began, his gaze fixed on hers. "We have it under control. Sit this one out." Shiraishi focused on the patient again, deliberately continuing to work on Yamamoto-san.

"Don't worry. I am fine.", she answered, Tachibana looking at her, utterly bewildered. Aizawa observed the staff leader, exchanging glances with Tachibana. The elderly doctor tried again.

"Come on, Shiraishi – " The phone interrupted him, announcing the ambulance's arrival. Fujikawa and Haitani grabbed new gloves, heading out along with a nurse to receive the patient. They moved the stretcher into the treatment room right after, positioning it next to Yamamoto-san's.  
"What's with him?"; Takahashi asked, upon seeing his friend laying weakily on the other stretcher. "Is he alive?"

"Yes.", Natori answered. Aizawa glanced over at the patient and the fellow that had accompanied him in the ambulance. Yokomine was in a bad state. Tear stains on her cheeks, her hands trembling, she stood next to the stretcher, holding her arms against her body in a frantic attempt to give herself more friction in order to calm herself. She announced briefly that the patient's condition had remained stable on the ride to Shohoku.

Right this moment, the rescuers brought Kimura-san into the treatment room, laying lifeless on the stretcher, the white cloth still draped over his body. Aizawa could see strands of hair under the cloth, dirty and muddy. The medical staff in the room refrained from stopping their work, but the tenseness was almost palpable, the atmosphere electrified. Yokomine broke into a loud sob, her body trembling.  
Tachibana was the first to move. He put a hand on Yokomine's arm, shielding her away from the view of the corpse, and turned to Saejima.

"Saejima-san, would you please accompany Yokomine out of here? I will send somebody to look after you right away."

The flight nurse obliged, delegating her chores to Yukimura and lead Yokomine towards the door. Tears were glistening in her eyes, but she tried to uphold a calm composure, for her and for Yokomine's sake.  
Tachibana watched them leave, then turned to Shiraishi, the young staff leader still heavily absorbed in her work. Aizawa carefully lifted the sterile patch over the wound, examining the edges of it.

"There is no exit wound.", Shiraishi stated.

"Shiraishi.", he started again, a stern tone in his voice. "I reckon you follow."

She shook her head. "I am fine, and Yamamoto-san needs a transportation to the OR urgently."

Yamamoto-san suddenly began to cough, an ugly and alarming sound in the ears of the staff around him, foamy blood ran over his lips and down his neck. Yamamoto-san's breath came shortened and ragged.

"Yamamoto, what is it?", Takahashi called out, helplessly observing the scenery from his place on the stretcher next to his friend. Aizawa leaned down, listening. There was a sucking noice audible. He quickly placed the patch over the wound and straightened himself. He turned to Yukimura.

"14-gauge needle." The nurse obliged and Aizawa decompressed the chest, stabilising the cathether in place.

"It's progressed into a sucking chest wound, highly suspected pneumothorax, let's get him to the OR immediately."

Shiraishi nodded and – along with Haitani – proceeded to push the stretcher out of the OR. Tachibana walked over to her, determined to stop her from setting a foot into the OR, but a male nurse stopped him as he walked into the treatment room.

"Tachibana-sensei.", he announced, keeping his voice low. "Kimura-san is in the trauma room. The police would like to speak to you." Tachibana looked from the nurse to Shiraishi, frustrated. They were one doctor short, Takahashi needed Fujikawa's attention as an orthopedic surgeon, and he himself as the Chief had to go and take the case of Kimura-san. The police would want to have answers as soon as possible, and Kimura-san's family would be here in the next few minutes or hours.  
He let Shiraishi pass, watching her back, then glanced at Aizawa. There was a silent understanding between those two. Aizawa nodded once. _I'll stay with her._

Tachibana had to let the matter rest like this, for now. He couldn't say that he was happy with it, not at all. "Aizawa, I let the patient rest in your hands. I'll try to send someone to assist you as soon as possible."

 _A trauma is nothing an emergency doctor wouldn't know about. Polytraumata from high falls and accident are a regular business. I will never try to tell somebody that it's something nice and beautiful. It's bloody, ugly. Human flesh being ripped wide open, bones fractured._

Aizawa pulled the stretcher into the elevator, glancing over at his colleague. Shiraishi was silent, observing the vitals and the tubus inside Yamamoto-san's mouth. Haitani felt uneasy, putting his weight from one leg to the other, noticing the worrisome gaze of the neurosurgeon. He didn't dare to speak a word. He didn't want to put anymore pressure on her, and he hated to let her assist him in her condition, but he was relieved he could keep an eye on her. She was so calm, and yet this was exactly what ticked him off. The doors opened on the surgery floor, and Shiraishi stepped out, without a word.

"Alright Natori.", Fujikawa began as they were scrubbing in, Takahashi-san sedated in the operating theatre. "I will call for another orthopedic surgeon to come help us. As soon as he or she is here, I will leave you and the patient in their care. The others will need me for the operation on the shooting victim."

Natori nodded, washing his hands and arms, ignoring the slight tremble in his hands. "It's good Shiraishi was still able to concentrate. If she hadn't been able to remain so calm, we would be in a very tight position."

Fujikawa didn't respond, silently scrubbing his fingers, hands and arms throughly. "You can call it what you want.", he said eventually. "But it for sure is no good sign."

"Eh?" Natori looked up at his senior, astoundished. Fujikawa continued, his eyes firmly concentrated on his hands. He remembered her eyes at the helipad. Empty and distant.

"Shiraishi had been called to give treatment to a patient that fell from high grounds and eventually found herself between two hostile coworkers, a situation that ended in a shooting with one dead victim. It doesn't matter if she wasn't shot on location." He stilled for a second, washing the soap off his arms and looked up. "A man raised his shotgun with the intent to kill, and she had been right in front of him. He didn't give a damn if she was standing between him and his target." He desinfected his hands, rubbing the palms together, as he finally glanced at Natori. "She isn't doing good at all."

Shiraishi stood next to the mirror in the changing room of the OR. She glanced at her counterpart for mere seconds, then rinsed a little towel under the streaming water. She began washing the dirt away from her face, the little remnants of it in the strains of her hair. She took her time; they were still preparing Yamamoto-san for the operation in this moment. She silently washed the towel under the water again, before passing it over the side of her right ear, cheek and neck, were she had laid on the muddy ground.  
She moved away from the mirrow, wiggling out of her flight jacket, and stilled. There it was, the bandage of hers around her upper arm. She had put on the jacket again while riding the helicopter, it had been getting cold outside. She almost had forgotten about it.

Her fingers grazed over the white material, and she wrung the towel in the sink before despensing it into a bin for dirty clothing. Her eyes trailed back to the mirror. A calming trance had settled upon her; so calming she didn't even get shocked about the empty eyes of hers.

 _A doctor is consistantly exposed to these kinds of ugly images. It basically is our job description to stay distant in order to be able to cope with it. In return, we usually stay calm in emergency situations, keeping a clear mind. But it's like walking on a hot tin roof. A balancing act, endlessly reaching our limits, expanding them. Experience lets us grow, we are much more resilient than we have been at the beginning of our carreer._

 _The weight we feel when we suddenly cannot cope with a traumatic experience hits us like a train. It is able to tear us apart, to rip our core. And when that happens, when a traumatic experience is so stressful it exceeds our ability to cope with it, we call it a psychological trauma._

 _And this is far more uglier than the injuries we see on a daily basis._

Aizawa, dressed in his surgical gown, stepped to the operating table.

"Scalpel.", he ordered, and Yukimura obliged. The patient laid on his right lateral side, the left side of his chest and ripcage exposed to the neurosurgeon as he made the first incision. Shiraishi was assisting him; calling out for a gauze and drying off the first amount of blood from the cut with the scalpel. Aizawa reached for the cauter, expanding the incision through the chest wall and muscles.

"Rib spreader." Shiraishi said and Haitani helped her fastening the instrument on the edges of the cut, giving Aizawa a clear view to the chest cavity and the injured lung.

"Haitani, pull the retractor towards you.", Aizawa said and ajusted the young fellow's hand with the retractor.

"Yes." Aizawa leaned closer to the open cut, observing it. He ordered for a tweezer to hold the lung tissue in place while he examined the hole where the bullet had entered the lung. In this second, the door was opened and an elder doctor with greyish hair entered the operating theatre. He rubbed his hands together and asked for a surgical gown and gloves. Haitani quickly glanced at the newcomer; he was wearing scrubs from the Pneumology Department.

Aizawa didn't move his head, only nodded once as if the other doctor could see his short greeting. "Maeda-sensei."

"Aizawa-sensei, I came as soon as you called the department.", the other man said, linking his fingers together to put the gloves in place as he came up next to the neurosurgeon's side. "A gunshot victim, I heard? While Doctor Heli was on location?"

"Ah. The projectile of a shotgun entered the right side of his thorax and penetrated the middle lobe of the right lung. The patient has suffered a pneumothorax after around five minutes being in the emergency, and there was a haemothorax shown on the echo."

"I see.", the elderly doctor leaned down. "I have once seen a gunshot wound where the bullet penetrated the lung. I had hoped I would never see it again." He straightened and Aizawa followed. "This man is still young, I want to save his lung and I want to prevent the need of a lung resection. Let's proceed with a pulmonary tractotomy."

"Yes." Aizawa obliged, giving room for the other doctor to get to work. Maeda examined the entry and exit wounds in the middle lobe, then asked Yukimura for the scissors. He carefully cut open the canal the bullet had created.

"Ah, a shotgun.", Maeda began somberly. "I welcome that the government has banned handguns to decrease the number of random shootings, but a shotgun wound is very striking. I highly suspect trachebronchal injuries. Let's hope there is no greater vessel injury."

Aizawa stayed silent and glanced up towards Shiraishi. She was handing over gauzes and instruments, holding onto a tweezer and retractor, but her eyes stayed empty. He knew she was not stable, and although Maeda didn't know that she had been directly affected on location, he would have very liked to tell the man to shut up. But he couldn't say anything when Maeda was very concentrated on saving Yamamoto-san's life. And it wouldn't help Shiraishi either when Maeda would treat her differently.

Maeda asked Yukimura for a surgical thread to ligate open blood vessels. Aizawa heard him in the background, his eyes trained on the injured lung, but he couldn't help to steal a glance at Shiraishi every now and then.

 _People may react differently when having a psychological trauma. They have different characteristics, different life styles, an environment that is able to support them. We call these circumstances protective factors. They are the reason why individuals won't react the same to similar events, and why some of us are able to come out of this unharmed, not psychological traumatised, when others are._

 _By nature and daily work, doctors tend to be more resilient, tend to have higher tolerances towards traumatic events. And yet, we are probably the worst coping with it, even though we preach it to our patients, that receiving psychological treatment and accepting one's limits is the first step towards recovery._

 _We try to force ourselves, refuse to believe that we have reached our limits, strongly thinking that our patients are the ones that need looking out for, not us, and thus, we race straight towards our breaking point._

 _It's the first time I see a doctor, a colleague, a friend, forcing her limits to this extend. It's like she is hardly there, leaving her empty shell with us. She's on incredibly low gear, the routine taking over the mechanical work, letting her hands act themselves._

 _Racing straight towards the breaking point._

The door opened again, revealing Fujikawa on the doorsteps, desinfecting his hands. "I'm available, where can I help?"

Maeda looked up from his work, astoundished. "There are sure a lot of you emergency doctors here today. Too many cooks spoil the broth, one would say." He chuckled lightly, and Fujikawa shot Aizawa an irritated glance, but the latter didn't react. Fujikawa's eyes softened when they reached Shiraishi's complexion, and he approached the operating table, keeping a safe distance to the sterile drapes.

"Shiraishi.", he called out softly, waiting for her to look at him before he continued. "Tachibana has been asking for you. He wants to see you on the emergency floor. I will take over for you." Shiraishi seemed to think about it for a second, her eyes drifting away to an empty point in the floor. But a second later, she turned to Fujikawa and smiled.

"There is no need for that, Fujikawa-sensei. I'm doing fine. Maybe you could check on Saejima-san and Yokomine-sensei, to see if they are doing alright." She regressed her work, draping the gauze over a bleeding that appeared when Maeda was sewing an open bronchus.

"Shiraishi.", Fujikawa called, faltering. Aizawa looked from Fujikawa to Shiraishi, noticing the helpless look on the orthopedic surgeon's face, and quickly stepped away from the operating table.

"Maeda-sensei, as Fujikawa-sensei is ready to take over for Shiraishi-sensei, I will quickly escort her back to the emergency, if you were agreeable. You said yourself, the patient is haemodynamically stable for the moment, and I'll be back in a minute."

Maeda mustered the neurosurgeon with an astoundished look on his face, his gaze shifting to the staff leader standing opposite of him who was equally astoundished. Realization dawned upon his face, and his eyes widened.

"Of course, Aizawa-sensei.", he answered slowly. "Take all the time you need."

The young surgeon nodded and bowed, turned around and gently took the instruments and the gauze out of Shiraishi's hands before she could protest, laying them on the instrument table of Yukimura. He laid his hand on her back, giving her a very gentle push towards the door.

Shiraishi watched as he took off his surgical gown and began to wash his hands, doing the same. She wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that she was doing fine, that he didn't have to look out for her, but his expression told her he was not up for a discussion. And still, Fujikawa had said that Tachibana needed her. Sighing, she followed his steps and they walked side to side to the elevator. He glanced at the bandage on her right arm.

Aizawa felt strange. He knew the kind of tenseness he had when performing an emergency surgery. The adrenaline running through his veins. But he always managed to relax on the walk from the theatre towards the elevator, no matter how busy Lifesaving was going to be. But this time, it was not the case. He felt the electricity tingle in his nerves, and it was familiar in some sort. He had felt the same when rushing out of Kanade's operation.  
It was a sign that he had a hard time coping himself. He glanced at Shiraishi, her eyes expressionless and calm. If he was struggling, how did _she_ feel?

They stopped in front of the elevator, he pressed a button. The doors swiftly opened, and they entered.

They stood there, in the middle of it, next to each other, not saying a word. Four eyes stayed trained on several dots all over the metallic box. They tried to stay focused and sane, but still, the tumult of the past minutes was clearly visible. Aizawa's gaze was so intense that it appeared as if he wanted to stare a hole into the white wall on the opposite of the floor. Shiraishi trained eyes to the ground, looking at her shoes.  
The doors closed, and Aizawa looked at his fellow colleague. He was not sure if he had heard a sound, noticed a flinch or just wanted to make sure where she is, but when his gaze fell on her, he realized that she was no longer expressionless, pressing her lips together, trying hard to cope. She knew it wasn't a good sign if Tachibana wanted to see her. Her adrenaline had been particulary high through the past events. Now, she was in a quiet elevator and the amount of adrenaline seemed to decrease, which stirred her wirbling thoughts awake.

His gaze settled back on the closed doors. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to say to his own racing thoughts, what to do to forget the images inside his head, of Kimura-san being brought into the emergency, the gashing wound in Yamamoto-san's chest, Shiraishi's bandaged arm. He was accustomed to see open skulls on an operating table everyday, performing thoracothomies on the field on a daily basis, images where others would faint. But right now, he was at a loss of what he could do. The day was not over, not nearly. As soon as the elevator would open again on the floor of the emergency, she would walk straight to Tachibana, giving him her best pokerface, and would force herself to work and stay focused for the sake of others. He would have exactly about a minute or so before he had to return back to the theatre, since Yamamoto-san was not nearly stable.

So, no matter how short it may be, the ride on the elevator was the only chance he would get for possibly the next hours to settle down. To let his concentration slack for a moment, to become aware of all the things that happened. A look towards Shiraishi, and he was sure she was thinking the very same thing. And exactly in this look lay the reason why he wasn't welcoming this moment, where time seemed to slow down; she was still wearing her scrubs, on full working mode. She showed her vulnerable state for the few seconds this ride was going to take, then she would close her walls again, and he had no chance to keep them open because he couldn't stay by her side, he had to get back to the OR.

His gaze fell towards the display of the elevator, that showed the nearing destination, and the actual danger she faced on location hit him like a train. The thick bandage on her right arm was enough evidence for that. He remembered Maeda's words. The impact a bullet out of the rifle of a shotgun had on a human body. He shuttered slightly at this thought. A few centimeters more to the right, and Shiraishi would have been the one on the operating table, with a penetrated lung and massive haemothorax. He felt the warmth emerging from her arms, because she was so close, and became much more aware of it, now that he had almost lost it. And he forgot about his stiff composure.

His arm lightly touched hers, keeping the physical connection steady while his hand timidly touched the soft skin below her ellbow, his fingers lightly gracing a trail down, over her wrist and down to her fingers. He firmly locked his hand with hers, holding it in a strong grip, and to his surprise, she grabbed his hand too. He didn't lift his head from the elevator's display, but, judging by the force, he could have sworn her knuckles had turned white. Her long, slender fingers where being engulfed by his hand, seeking shelter from what could come still. His thumb rubbed over her hand in slow and firm circles, pressing down every now and then to remind himself that she was here.

Much too soon, the elevator announced the next stop with a ding and she abruptly seperated their hands. Aizawa was lightly shocked by the loss of her touch, looking at their hands, as she turned towards him while exiting the elevator. He unconciously reached out for her.

"Thank you for escorting me, Aizawa-sensei." She smiled. He watched her walking down the hallway, turning her back to him, his outstretched hand empty. A very worried expression settled on his face as the doors closed again, leaving him standing alone in the metall box. And just like that, he had lost her again.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** It's been almost two months since my last update, I am very sorry. I had to study for several exams and didn't find the time to post something. Thank you all for the kind reviews and reading this fanfiction! As always, a **trigger warning: there are mentions of death and violence, as well as spoilers for season 3.**

That being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Chapter 3

"I know, you are following the protocol, but is there no way for her to do it later when she's settled?"

Tachibana stood outside, in the hallway, standing opposite of two police men. One of them, the taller, slightly bulky detective with dark hair and wrinkles on his face straightened himself and gestured a slight nod with his head, as if to offer an apologetic bow.

"I'm afraid it cannot wait. In cases like this, the very first few hours matter. Gun violence is a very serious crime in Japan. It is essential that we learn the circumstances that lead to this tragedy, the sooner the better." Tachibana turned his head away from both men, standing with his hands on his hips. His eyes fell to the tall petite figure that came walking down the hallway, a smile on her face, and he quickly turned back to the detective and wispered:

"I understand the police force wants answers, but look at her. She has been standing within the direct shooting range of a gun, grazed by a shot that stroke a man we still try to save in theatre. She may be in shock and we don't know it."

The detective leaned closer to the flight doctor, frowning his eyebrows sympathetically. "All the more why I have to question her right now, as she is the best witness we have. And I don't feel comfortable with the situation either. But my director demands answers. We need to know why this man fired a gun when strict gun laws and controls should restrict him from doing so. There might have been a security leakage, and we need to now how and when. For the sake of Kimura-san's family, and all the people that were involved."

"Tachibana-sensei, I heard you wanted me?", Shiraishi called out. Tachibana nodded and stepped aside, giving room for the detective who bowed friendly towards Shiraishi.

"Shiraishi-sensei, may I introduce detective Sado Tadsuo to you. He would like to talk with you."; Tachibana said. Shiraishi blinked for a moment, then understood.

"Of course.", She bowed. "I will be happy to answer your questions.", The detective smiled.

"Thank you, Shiraishi-sensei. This way please." He gestured to a consultation room where another police man was sitting, in front of a radio. Tachibana glanced sceptical into the room before settling his hand on Shiraishi's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'll be right outside, if you need me. Are you going to be alright?", he asked, looking her deep in the eyes. They were calm as ever as she responded with her signature smile:

"I will be, thank you for worrying, Tachibana-sensei."

Tachibana watched as Sado-san closed the door behind them, leaving him at bay and within seconds, an image made itself into his mind and stayed there, Shiraishi as a young fellow, shy and fragile, trying her best to please others and often hurting herself in the run. A protégé that needed protection. He couldn't help feeling that he had just let her down.

"Shiraishi-sensei, I understand you know why I wanted to talk to you?" Sado-san settled in the chair opposite her next to his colleague, offering her a glass of water which she happily accepted. She nodded.

"You wish to know what happened concerning Kimura-san."

"Exactly.", Sado-san leaned forward slightly, smiling a little. "This conversation will be recorded. Before we start, I want you to know that we are in no way blaming you on anything, we just would like to know what you have witnessed. If it is going to be too much for you, if you need a break, please do not hesitate to tell so."

Shiraishi nodded again.

"Well then.", Sado-san began and flipped a document that lay before him. "You were called to an emergency that was requesting for Doctor Heli, is that correct?"

"Yes. "Shiraishi sat up, crossing her legs. "I received a call from the Okoya fire department around a quarter to five. A man in his 30s had fallen down from a construction, Takahashi-san."

"Was there any more information given via the radio?

"There was none."

"Is this the usual case? And no one mentioned that the police force had been called too?""

"We are used to receiving the minimum of information before we arrive on location. It is almost impossible to learn everything about our patient in advance, that's why we are trained to act fast and thorough on location. Therefore, we haven't heard of the police men's presence before our arrival."

"I see.", Sado-san consulted his document again.

"What sort of vibes did you get from Takahashi-san?

Shiraishi blinked, thinking. "Well, he seemed to be a case like we see it a lot when a patient falls from high grounds. Pelvic fracture, highly possible traumatic brain injury. He was stable upon our arrival."

"And apart from that?"

Shiraishi frowned.

"I don't think I qute follow.", she said timidly. Sado-san lowered his head before he spoke, choosing his words very wisely.

"According to one of the police officers on scene, you were told that there might be a possible investigation concerning Takahashi-san and Kimura-san. What was your opinion on Takahashi-san, from a psychological point of view? Was he clear in his head?"

Shiraishi thought hard. "He was in a lot of pain. This certainly took a toll on his responsiveness. That being said, I cannot say to a hundred percent that Takahashi-san was not in any way confused or dizzy when we treated him. He was stable and responsive, yet seemed to be in quite a shock, but this is understandable when he had fallen of a construction just minutes before."

"Has he implied anything to you? Said something that made you alarmed?"

Shiraishi shook her head. "No."

Sado-san nodded short. " Then we move on to Kimura Taiichi, the shooter.", he said to the radio and turned to Shiraishi once again. "What was your personal opinion of him when you first saw him?"

Shiraishi opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Eh?", she called out, frowning.

Sado-san leaned forward enwinding his fingers. " Did Kimura-san seem off to you? Unnatural behavior or even hostility?"

Shiraishi lowered her head, thinking. "No, no. He didn't attract attention in any way, I honestly didn't notice him until the police man came to speak to me. I'm sorry, but I wasn't paying attention to him."

A silence hung in the air, uneasy and tense, and Shiraishi knew te detective was not pleased with her answer. She refused to look into his eyes; she suddenly felt very uncomfortable, unnerved. She straightened.

"Is something the matter?", she timidly asked. Sado-san continued mustering her, his face eventually looking very consoling.

"You said it yourself, an emergency doctor is trained to act relaxed and precise on location. So far, I learnt that you're the staff leader and quite experienced as a flight doctor."

"Yes, but that accounts for my patients, not my surroundings."

"I'd say you paid attention to your surroundings too. One of the police officers states that you maintained a very concentrated and relaxed composure until the very last moment where you walked over to Yamamoto-san and Kimura-san. Considering that he saw you lead the team – " Sado-san consulted his documents again, then met Shiraishi's eyes. "I'd say you were assessing your surroundings and the situation altogether."

Shiraishi frowned harder, thinking. "Kimura-san was sitting in his edge, crouching. Next to him was his bag."

Sado-san waited patiently for her to continue, still leaning forward on the table.

"He was secluded from his colleagues. I remember he was quite silent and hardly noticable."

"What about the other construction workers? Were they hostile towards him?"

An image flashed into Shiraishi's mind. The image of several coworkers glaring at the crouched man, wispering to one another and pointing at Kimura-san.

"Yes. They were talking about him, accusing him to have pushed Takahashi-san."

Sado-san nodded. "Did any of them try to approach Kimura-san in any way?"

"No, only Yamamoto-san did."

"Alright, let's move on to the shooting." Sado-san's eyes trailed on Shiraishi, mustering her. "Please tell me everything you remember about the shooting, Shiraishi-sensei."

Shiraishi concentrated. "Yamamoto-san approached Kimura-san when we were finished to prepare Takahashi for transport. Yamamoto-san seemed very angry to me. I had been sitting next to him while his friend was being examined. That's why I thought I should follow Yamamoto-san."

"According to the other witnesses, there was a fight before the shot. Do you know who started it?"

"Yamamoto-san. He blamed Kimura-san for Takahashi-san's fall and grabbed Kimura-san by his collar. Kimura-san answered with a kick to Yamamoto-san's gut, shoving him to the ground."

"Until this moment, have you heard any commotion? The police officers, perhaps?"

Shiraishi hesitated. "I don't know."

"Shiraishi-sensei, I'm sorry to force you to remember this situation, but this is very elementary. We need every little detail."

Shiraishi shook her head, frowning more. "I told you, I don't know. I'm really sorry, Sado-san."

The detective ignored her, urging her more. "Please try to remember it, Shiraishi-sensei. What happened before Kimura-san shot Yamamoto-san?"

 _Another image forced itself into Shiraish's head. She straightened herself, looking at Yamamoto-san who was behind her, his mouth agape, his eyes widened. In slow motion, she turned her head, hearing screams of the construction workers and Saejima before her eyes fell to the rifle in front of her._

 _She looked in Kimura-san's eyes. They were distant, empty. He didn't react at all when he saw her standing in front of her. His eyes were trailed on Yamamoto-san. He adjusted the rifle, she heard the shot, she thought she could almost see the bullet racing straight forward towards her and felt a stinging pain in her arm. Kimura-san's eyes widened in realization as he saw that she was standing inbetween the two coworkers, his mouth agape. She looked down to her arm, a long and deep bleeding gash visible through the hole in her jacket. Her ears rang, she heard Saejima calling out to her. Construction workers behind her were shouting louder and louder, the sound coming nearer. Kimura was standing in front of her, looking bewildered, still holding the shotgun tightly in his hands.  
Suddenly she heard another sound, a gunshot from another weapon. Kimura-san, his eyes still widened, looked down to where blood came out from a shot to the left side of his chest. He stared at his wound, then at her, shocked, before he fell to the ground. She heard the frantic shouts of the police officers, trying to keep everyone away from the crime scene. Her legs gave up, and she fell, rolling on her right side._

"Shiraishi-sensei?" Sado-san's voice brought her back to from her thoughts. He observed her, slightly worried.

Shiraishi's eyes blinked. She leaned forward, hesitating, her hands trembling. She gulped. Remembering had made the already uncomfortable situation much more intense. She fought against her tears, her heart beating fast. And then she explained every detail. Sado-san listened carefully, leaning back in his chair, his eyes somber. Shiraishi's voice was clear, even though she began to tremble stronger the more she told what happened.  
She became silent when she told him the last bit. He was silent, too, nodding to himself. Shiraishi looked at her fingers, a deep frown on her face. She felt so estranged, as if she was not fully there. Not fully aware of what happened until now.

"What did the police officers shout?", Sado-san asked her finally.

Shiraishi stilled. She felt numb. "They said 'Please clear away from the crime scene.' " _Crime scene._ The word rang terribly loud in her mind, she was not able to put it aside. A crime scene. She had been on a location that turned into a crime scene.

Sado-san realized that something was off with her and he reached out to touch her shoulder when his phone rang.

"Detective Sado Tadsuo?", he answered, listening to the person on the phone. "I see. Please lead them to the hallway, I will meet them there with Tachibana-sensei. Thank you." He hung up, turning to Shiraishi.

"Thank you, Shiraishi-sensei for your help. You are free to go now."

An officer bowed to Sado-san as he made his way quickly through the hospital hallways, a deep frown on his forehead. He hated to do this. He loved his job, he really did, a profession made for him, as his mother would say, but at times like this, he hated it. He dispised it that he had sent for a nurse to pick up that female doctor instead of guiding her to the psychologist himself. He felt shameful thinking how much he had just pressed out of her. He felt sick thinking about whom he will have to meet now.

Tachibana was waiting for him around the corner, holding a document in his hand he had prepared for this very moment. He saw the detective approaching, and stepped forward.

"They should be here any minute." Sado-san said, leading the senior doctor in the consultation room. They had prepared it for this: Tachibana had asked someone of the staff to do it, though he didn't really know if there was anyway to prepare oneself for it. He silently nodded to the detective. Both men refused to sit down, standing very still, waiting.

Tachibana turned the document in his hand, reading the headline. _Autopsy report. Name: Kimura, Taiichi._ Tachibana gripped the layer of paper firmer. Normally, they would not have the autopsy report before two days after the death of a patient. But this time, they had had to be precise and fast. He read through the details again.  
He had read it countless times already, knowing it by heart, but each time, he found another detail, another word that made him think of another way to bring the news to his parents. To try to explain why he had to die.

The Chief of the Emergency Department glanced at the sign on the open door: "Do Not Disturb". Both men looked up and moved to the door when they heard footsteps approaching. An officer was standing with them, leading them to the room.

"This way, please.", he said. Sado-san stepped forward, and on cue, the officer retreated.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kimura.", he began somberly. "My name is Sado Tadsuo and I'm on top of the case concerning the decease of your son. I deeply express my condolences.", Sado-san showed to Tachibana." This is Tachibana Keisuke-sensei, Chief of the Emergency Department and with me here." Tachibana expressed his condolences too and both men bowed, Mr. and Mrs. Kimura doing the same.  
Suffice to say, the situation was very bizarre and unnatural. Tachibana observed Kimura's parents taking a seat as Sado-san offered them to do so. The greeting had been very polite, all the unnecessary pleasantries they used every day, in a cold and distant manner, even though the matter they would discuss was in no way routine nor was it just a simple matter.

The detective and the doctor took a seat opposite to the parents. Tachibana glanced at the couple sitting in front of them.  
Kimura-san's mother, a woman in Tachibana's age, greyish strands in her black hair that fell to her shoulders, stared at the detective. She was silent and didn't cry, but her eyes were widened and swollen, her skin very pale. Her husband, a man that was almost bald with rectangle shaped glasses on his nose, was sitting up straight and waited for the detective to continue.

"Kimura Taiichi-san lived with you in your house, is that correct?" The mother sobbed silently, while her husband leaned forward.

"This is correct, yes. Taiichi has studied at Tokio University for the bar before he decided to leave university after two years, saying he wanted to study something that would fulfill him more. He wanted to stay with us and work until he would find something else, and I was okay with that as long as he would work."

"The job as a construction worker, was this his first employment?"

The father shook his head. "He went from one job to the next. He never settled."

"He was restless.", the mother said, sniffing into a handkerchief in her hand. "He was still so young, he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. So many possibilities and chances that laid open to him."

Sado-san nodded slowly. "I see.", he murmured. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on his ellbows. "Has Taiichi-san seemed off to you the last days? Something he mentioned about work, friends?"

"He was like he always had been. Very quiet, often absentminded. He preferred to think instead of taking action, that's were we had our differences."

"He is an intellectual boy, fit for university." The mother murmured. "Wondering about the small details in life, constantly asking me questions about almost everything. I sometimes said: ' I don't think there are enough answers on this world to satisfy your thirst for knowledge.'", she smiled bitterly and looked from her husband to the detective. "He was a very smart and good boy. He never complained about anything."

Tachibana observed quietly as the mother grabbed her handkerchief tighter and sobbed. She reminded him of Mitsui, the time when Yuusuke had been in the hospital, waiting for his new heart. It was a strange thought, and it terrified him. Taiichi's father reminded Tachibana of himself, upholding a fierce and composure, for the sake of their partner and child, or so they think.  
Never before had it hit him so strong. All along, Kimura had been the shooter, the one that pointed his shotgun towards a doctor and a working colleague. Tachibana had known his parents had to been dealt with great delicacy when they told them about the circumstances Taiichi had died under. But it struck him now more than ever that they lost a boy today, and it didn't matter that he might have killed somebody if Yamamoto's operation went wrong. They hadn't known anything about it, no signs, no words spoken. It was no different than speaking with parents of a deceased patient.

They must look exactly how he did when he thought he'd lose Yuusuke.

Sado-san nodded and made some notes. "A witness told us that Taiichi's relationship with his work colleagues was very fragile.", Tachibana looked up, listening attentively.

"Fragile?", the mother echoed, her eyes widening. "Was he bullied?"

Sado-san nodded slowly. "As far as we know, this might be very possible."

"Possible? Couldn't you be more precise? Who bullied my son?", the father asked, frowning. He straightened himself in his chair.

"Please, Mr. Kimura.", Sado-san responded. "This is an unfinished investigation, I can't tell you – "

"This has nothing to do with your paperwork or you investigating to what extent he was responsible. This is about my son being bullied and I want to know from whom!" Mr. Kimura slammed his hand on the table. Tachibana and Sado-san lightly winced, giving him space. But suddenly, Taiichi's father's face turned solemn. "My son would have never been able to do such a thing. If he was bullied, and tried to solve it his own way instead of coming to us – " He shook his head. "I knew it would take a great deal for my son to go off and shoot somebody, but I didn't understand why. He must have been bullied to the extent where he saw no other way out but to use a shotgun and I demand that the responsible coworkers are charged upon this too!"

A sob disrupted the tense atmosphere between the men who automatically turned around to the elder woman that was sitting in her chair, her face sunken. "What are you doing, demanding for justice here?", she murmured solemnly.

Her husband's eyes widened in disbelief. "This people were responsible for what happened today. For Taiichi's sake – "

"If it was for Taiichi's sake, we would have been responsible too!", she cried out and her husband fell silent immediately, gaping. "You were working all day, taking all the shifts you could and going out with your colleagues to get a drink after work. I was busy with the chores at home and grocery shopping. Taiichi was either working or home alone, and when I asked him whether he was going out with friends, he'd say he did and later came back and said it was fun.  
It obviously had been lies he was telling us. And we lived under the very same roof as him, and did not have any idea what was going on with our own son! He was quiet, he was introvert and a thinker, a worrier even, but we took it light-hearted, you and me. I never asked him how he was doing, we let him live with us the way he had.", she blowed her nose in the handkerchief and tried to breathe slowly, before she continued. "We are every bit as responsible as his coworkers."

Tachibana looked away. Another déjà-vu hit him. Yuusuke in the hospital room, telling him he didn't want the heart transplant. It had been the first time Tachibana had really stopped dead in his tracks, completely surprised by his son's decision. The first time he had thought whether he does know his son so well like he thought he would.

Mrs. Kimura turned to Sado-san. "We didn't get a note. Nothing. He was quietly leaving for work today, wishing me a good time and that's it. He showed me a little smile of his before he left, and I didn't think anymore to it. And I can't stop thinking about it. ", she turned back to her husband who had lowered his head. "I want to have something. I want to understand why my son did this. I want to understand why."

Tachibana leaned slightly forward, clearing his throat. "Aka-san, I believe no one will ever understand or know what went through Taiichi's head today before he died. This is a secret Taiichi-san took with him which can never be taken from him. I can't voice his sentiments, I can't give you a note, but I can tell you about the autopsy report and tell you what happened to him. Would you like to hear it?"

Mrs. Kimura blinked, once, twice, then nodded. "Yes, please.", she wispered.

Tachibana opened the document laying before him.


	5. Chapter 4

Hello! I'm really sorry for the late update. This is the final chapter to In Desperate Times! I hope you also enjoy the last part of it and thanks a lot for the reviews on this one! As before, trigger warning for mental health problems.

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Saejima sat in the conference room. It felt like hours since she been outside of it, but frankly, she didn't care. Yokomine was sitting next to her, a tea in her hand. Her hands still trembled, but she had recovered a great deal since she had been able to speak to a psychiatrician, a more or less direct order from Tachibana. Saejima was astoundished how calm she suddenly felt; she had been greatly shaken by the events of the day, but after a long talk with Myamoto-sensei, as the psychiatrician was called, and a good meal, she felt stable. Not so stable that she will not think or have dreams about it or to work, but stable enough to stand up and go home once Fujikawa was done with his shift.  
She cradled Yokomine in her arms, rocking her softly. The fellow would be picked up by her parents in a while. It would do her good to have people she loves and trusts around her.

The door opened, and Saejima looked up, seeing Shiraishi enter. She wanted to straighten herself and go over to her, but quickly decided against it, because Yokomine seemed to be calm, for now.

"Shiraishi-sensei.", Saejima greeted the young doctor, almost wispering. The female turned her head. Saejima wanted to ask her how she was doing, but stilled when she noticed Shiraishi's face. She had never seen her more fallen and empty.

"Ah, Saejima-san, hello.", she answered and sat down opposite her. Saejima mustered the doctor. Shiraishi seemed off to her. Saejima couldn't grasp what it was, it wasn't something distinctive, but Shiraishi was different. Saejima was thankful when another female figure approached Shiraishi, Myamoto-sensei politely greeting her.

"Shiraishi-sensei, hello.", she smiled. "I don't think we have met until now. I'm Myamoto-sensei from Psychiatric Department. Can I talk to you?"

"Yes.", Shiraishi responded, her brown eyes trained on the elder doctor.

"How are you?"

"Fine." Shiraishi smiled. "Thank you for your concern."

"That's good. Do you want to talk about what happened today?"

Shiraishi stilled for a moment, lowering her head. "I believe I should, though it's still a haze in my head. But I already told the detective everything I could."

Myamoto-sensei smiled. "I'm not a detective, I won't be asking you question about what happened. I am going to talk with you about everything you'd like. What do you want to talk about?"

Shiraishi was quiet for a second more, her eyes trained on a point in the ceiling, before answering the question: "It was so loud."

"Loud?", Myamoto-sensei echoed, leaning back in his chair. "In what way loud?"

"The construction workers, the police officers, the shots."

"And how did you feel when you heard these loud noises?"

Shiraishi's eyelids fluttered, as if she remembered something. "I don't know, actually. It happened so fast."

"That's okay.", Myamoto-sensei said. "You're doing very well, Shiraishi-sensei. Maybe I can help you find out." She gave her a positive nod, looking Shiraishi into the eyes. The younger doctor smiled.

"Thank you, Myamoto-sensei."

"These loud noises, what did you do when you heard them?"

"I spun around, looking who screamed.", she thought about it for a second. "Some I didn't even register very much."

"Alright, very well.", Myamoto-san smiled again and tried to speak, when Shiraishi stood up.

"I'd like to go and get something to drink, if that's possible?"

"Yes, of course.", Myamoto-sensei straightened herself. "Let me go get something for you."

"You don't have to, but thank you. "Shiraishi smiled. "I need to go to the restroom, so it's already on the way."

Myamoto-sensei scrutinised her, clearly thinking whether she should let her go alone or not. "Alright, Shiraishi-sensei. But please make sure to be back soon, okay?"

Shiraishi nodded, closing the door behind herself. Saejima couldn't help but to notice the slight tremble in Shiraishi's hands.

"Judging by my colleague's observations, I conclude that the targeted shot to the chest has been fatal. The bullet has punctured several major blood vessels and the right ventricle of the heart. This has resulted into a haemorrhage and a cardiac arrest on location." Tachibana looked up from the document and glanced at the parents. "In my opinion, Taiichi-san died fast and didn't have to suffer." He closed the document.

The parents of Kimura-san seemed to be in a sort of trance. The father was sitting there, his gaze firmly trained on Tachibana-san, the mother seemed to stare through the table right at her feet. Tachibana observed them sympathetically. It was clear that it had settled now, the fact that their son was dead, but their brains still struggled to register it. Surprisingly, it was the mother who spoke first.

"Of all the ways I would have ever pictured my son dying – and I didn't dare to think about such thing – I would have never believed it would happen like it happens to any of the kills you make with your huntsmen.", she glanced at her husband. The latter turned his head, watching her aching. "Shot dead like some rabbit it the woods."

Her husband shook his head. Not to disagree with her, but it was evident that he had trouble with this comparison. Sado-san, who had been very quiet for the last few minutes, spoke up.

"Are you a hunter, Mr. Kimura?", the man in front of him pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Yes. It's a hobby of mine, has been for a long time. I have a few old friends from work that live in the neighbour, we get out together once in a while. It's calming, you know.", he lowered his head. "Being out in the woods, breathe the fresh air. I've had the shotgun for a long time. I garded it with the upmost care I could, kept it in a safe no one knew the code to. I always told my son that this is a very dangerous weapon that you have to handle very carefully. I showed him once how it functions. I told him if he ever had the chance, he should apply for a licence too, so he could come with us.", his voice broke, he was choking on tears. "I – I never thought that he might use it for _this._ " The father hid his face behind his hands, his wife laying a hand of hers on his shoulders, crying.

Sado-san and Tachibana exchanged sorrowful glances.

"I believe, it's best we stop at this point. Let's continue with our dialogue tomorrow morning." The parents nodded and followed suit as the detective stood up. "Is there any place you live right now?"

The father nodded. "We're staying at a friend's house until your troops are finished with Taiichi's room."

"That's good. I will have an officer escort you there. I thank you for your cooperation today. And again, my humble condolences for your loss." Sado-san bowed.

"Thank you for telling us everything.", the mother said as she walked by Tachibana. The latter looked at her astoundished.

"Please, don't thank me. You have every right to know. I know I would want too." The mother smiled faintly, observing the face of the Chief.

"I'm not thanking for the report. I'm thanking for being honest, and sensible. Ever since they told us, I feel as if I'm being watched. By doctors, by nurses, by police officers, everyone. I can almost feel what they are thinking. _How could they not know?_ ", she sniffed again. "I don't know myself why this is possible. I wonder myself if I didn't know him enough, if I haven't given him the attention he needed. I am shocked when I think about what my son did today, and I struggle to believe we are talking about the same person I gave birth to and raised. I'd like to believe it was something else speaking through him, something evil, completely a stranger to me. Then it would be so much clearer why I didn't know."

Tachibana thought about it for a second. "Sometimes, when we have so many things holding us down, weighing heavily on our shoulders, we often get desperate to escape. And I think, if we are desperate enough, we are willing to do everything only to escape." He glanced at the mother. "I don't know what happened between the coworkers while at work. But in my opinion, Taiichi-san was a desperate man. And I believe that he had not been himself today, not at all. It's hard to foresee that."

The mother smiled again and nodded, bowing deeply. Tachibana expressed his condolences to both parents again and watched them leave, closing the door behind them. His eyes trained on the closed door, he spoke, absendminded:

"What's going to happen now?"

Sado-san had his gaze directed to the door too. "We will investigate if Taiichi-san has not left any note or evidence about planning all of this. The director will want some answers too why he was able to get ahold of that shotgun."

"You don't think he just gave it to him, do you?"

Sado-san shook his head. "Not really. That man seemed very professional to me. To get a licence for a shotgun is very hard in Japan. He's had this one for years, so I think he's clear of the rules and sticks to them. But you heard them, Taiichi was an intelligent man. We'll find out how it happens." Sado-san stilled, then turned to Tachibana. "Nevertheless, I think they have a rocky road ahead of them. People will start to question them how they couldn't know, as the mother said. I hate to say it, but this makes a good copy to the press."

"That's unbelievable."

"Yes, but I'm afraid this is how it works. The only option we have is to protect them the best we can from the cameras and to plead the public to leave them be for the time being." Sado-san packed his things, then went for the door. "I'll have to bring these notes to my director. I believe we are seeing each other again for a crisis meeting with your board, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Well then.", Sado-san bowed. "Until then, Tachibana-sensei."

"Ah." Tachibana bowed then stepped out of the room. A heavy weight fell from his shoulders as he saw other people walking down the hallways, minding their business. But his stomach still felt strange when he thought what else was yet to come. He took a deep breath and walked to the right, aiming for the conference room.

Shiraishi was standing in front of the machine, hovering over the buttons of hot tea and a can of iced tea. She was not sure and frankly, she didn't care. Another flashback came to her mind. It was almost the same as before; the noises incredibly loud, ringing in her ears. She stepped away from the machine and looked around. She needed to take a walk, to take her mind of things.

A friendly nurse greeted Shiraishi in the hallway, asking her how she was doing very sympathetically. An image of Kimura-san, a bloody gash in his chest and blood coming out of his mouth appeared in front of her eyes and she had to force herself not to scream.

"I'm fine.", she answered and hurried down the hallway. She turned around, thinking were she should go, where she would be safe, when one thought ran through her mind. Yamamoto-san was still in surgery. She picked up her pace and hurried towards the operation theatre.

As she quickly changed into surgery scrubs and walked up to the operation room, she felt strange. It was so cold, the air smelled of desinfectant and packed material. Something she never felt uncomfortable with, it was an everyday business, but she couldn't feel at ease, not even here. She walked into the room where they were usually scrubbing in. She looked down. Her fingers trembled, she nervously played with her nails. As she glanced through the window to the operating table, she saw the staff transferring Yamamoto-san to a normal hospital bed, a bandage around his chest. Maeda-sensei and Fujikawa along with Natori and two nurses pushed him out of the operating theatre on the other side of the room.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened and Shiraishi slightly jumped. Aizawa appeared in her sight, sighing as he discarded the surgical gown and began washing his hands before noticing the figure standing in front of him.

"Shiraishi.", he called out astoundished, drying his hands and approaching her.

"Aizawa-sensei." She smiled, trembling still. He observed her gaze, his hands resting around her shoulders. "How are you?"

"Is he going to be okay? Yamamoto-san?"

Aizawa mustered her before responding. "Yes. He still has a long way to go and a lot of rehabilitation to go through, but the surgery went well. They just brought him to the ICU. Now, how are you?", he insisted and looked at her deeply.

Shiraishi detached her gaze from his, letting it drift elsewhere. "I –", she began when a nurse exited the operation room.

"Aizawa-sensei, this is the sample for the police, you said you want it." Shiraishi stared at the little jar in the hands of the nurse. The bullet, disfigured and bloody, even though it had been polished, lay in there. The bullet that grazed her and injured Yamamoto-san. From this distance, she could see the metal shimmering in the light. Cold, hard metal. She could hear the gunshots again. That's when she broke.

Aizawa just managed to catch her as Shiraishi fell forward into his arms, crying hard. The nurse shot him a bewildered look. He looked from the crumbled figure between his arms to the nurse.

"Just leave it here.", he told her fast and she hurried out of sight. He readjusted his hands around Shiraishi, one arm drapped around her shoulders, stroking her hair, the other around his waist as he wispered into her ear.

"It's okay, Shiraishi. It's going to be okay." She sobbed helplessly in his chest, the flashbacks coming again and again, her tears draining his scrubs. Aizawa just stood there, holding her, stroking her softly.

Shiriaishi felt that she was nowhere near being stable, im fact, her mind seemed to stop dead in front of a barricade where it was impossible to find a way around it; a barricade made of many problems, painful and horrifying memories and it seemed impossible to overcome it.

 _But Aizawa-sensei is here,_ she thought as his arms gripped her tighter and cradled her carefully. He has been with her in so many painful and crucial moments in her life; the breakdown she suffered after Kuroda's accident, her fathers desease. She felt his hand stroking the back of her head, and she leaned into his chest, letting go completely. It was soothing, depending fully on him and his strong arms. He didn't seem to mind, propping his chin up on her head and staring into nowhere. He was always there for her, and that was something that would never change.

Saejima and Fujikawa stood beside each other, watching the ICU through the closed sliding doors as Tachibana approached them

"Ah, Fujikawa, Saejima.", he greeted, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, a grin on his face. "Where's Yokomine?"

"She was picked up by her parents earlier. They're going to live with her for a while."

Tachibana nodded understanding. "Yes, it's for the best she is spending some time with them. And seeing Myamoto-sensei too."

Fujikawa and Saejima nodded in unison. The three fell silent for a moment, before Tachibana continued: "Takahashi and Yamamoto-san both survived their surgeries today. It's a rocky path from now, but I am sure they will succeed. We could have lost three people today, but we lost one. This was very good work from each and every one of you." He turned to the couple next to him. "Well done."

Saejima stared at the Chief, tears in her eyes, a lump in her throat, but she smiled and nodded. Fujikawa stared to his patients in their bed, laying next to each other.

"Kimura-san was almost the same age as we are. It's so strange to think about that."

"Ah.", Tachibana said. He lowered his head. "It's a pity to lose someone so young, under whatever circumstances. The police force is trying to get investigate this case as thorough as possible. Whether it mainly was him being bullied or if he had suicidal thoughts and depression before that, they will probably get an idea of it. But we'll never know what has been going on in his mind before he died.", Tachibana frowned his eyebrows. "I somehow wish I'd know. I want to understand why."

Fujikawa silently agreed to that. He breathed out slowly and touched Saejima's shoulder, softly gripping it. Saejima smiled and laid her hand over his. He turned back to Tachibana.

"So, I heard Shiraishi – ", he began, but Saejima's threatening glance refrained him from continuing.

"How is she?" Tachibana met Saejima's soft eyes and sighed. "Aizawa took her to Myamoto-sensei, she had a talk with her, I learnt from Myamoto-sensei that she is not doing very well but it's a process she halfway expected."

Fujikawa dropped his head, staring at the hospital floor while putting his hands in his pockets. "Shiraishi was stubborn as always. Upholding a happy and carefree composure for the sake of everyone, that's what she thinks matters." He stilled. "Is she going to be okay?"

Saejima didn't respond and took another look at Yamamoto and Takahashi-san. "She will, eventually.", Tachibana said absentminded. It was one of these flowery phrases, something yo say that has literally no meaning or won't help you with your question. But truth to be told, the senior doctor didn't know what else to say. Still, he felt like this was not enough, so added:  
"I think it's best for her to take her time to cope with the events of today. She still wants to fight it, I guess Shiraishi will never feel comfortable being the one to be consoled. At least she has agreed to go back to Myamoto-sensei. That's a start." Saejima and Fujikawa nodded in agreement. Saejima wanted to say something to this, opening her mouth, when she realized that Tachibana seemed absentminded, concentrated on the closed sliding doors of the ICU. Fujikawa touched his wife's arm softly.

"Let's go home.", he said lowly. Saejima nodded again, her eyes tired, and turned to Tachibana. "Good night, Tachibana-sensei." She bowed. Tachibana smiled and bowed to her and Fujikawa. "Good work today. Please be careful on your way home. And Saejima –" he cracked another smile. "I don't want to see you turning up here before Monday either. You deserve a good rest."

Saejima smiled faintly. "Thank you." As the couple made their leave, Tachibana remained in his position, his hands stil in the pockets of his pants. Heavy, slow steps approached him and he didn't even have to turn his head to know who was standing next to him.

"Saijo.", he acknowledged, his head still concentrated on the ICU doors. The elder neurosurgeon walked closer to him.

"Tachibana." He turned towards his counterpart. "This sure has been a difficult day."

Tachibana smiled lightly and hummed. "Ah, yes, you can say that aloud." Both men stilled, deep in thoughts.

"Good job.", Tachibana began. "I heard you were present during Takahashi-san's surgery today. He seems to be doing good."

"Ah yes, thank you. Takahashi-san was very lucky; this accident could have costed him much more. His going to recover from it. "

Tachibana nodded. "I heard from Aizawa that Yamamoto-san survived the operation and is stable for now. The next hours will be essential." Both men stilled. They watched the doors to the ICU open and close, nurses and doctors streaming in and out.

"But seriously, Tachibana.", Sajio began, ending the akward medical small talk. " I've been around here as long as you and I thought I'd seen it all, and right then, the unthinkable happens."

Tachibana agreed. "Ah, yes.", he crossed his arms. "When Yokomine told me what happened, I just –", he stilled. "For a minute, I really thought the victim was Shiraishi. Yokomine was in shock and her sentences chaotic, I couldn't really figure out who was affected, in what way." He turned to Saijo. "This is an absolute nightmare. You know they're on their own, grown ups who rush to help others on a daily rate, but when something happens, you feel as if your worried about your protégés. When I got the call, all I could think about it was: _No, not one of mine._ "

Saijo remained silent for a while, taking in the confession his friend just gave him. The Chief of Emergency Department had his eyes trained on his own shoes, his mouth formed a serious thin line. Nothing was left from the slight amusant small talk they had exchanged just seconds before. "I understand. You've seen them mature, you saw how they learnt from their faults and stood up when they stumbled. It's similar to you being a parent." Saijo smirked. "I think it's perfectly understandable if you are worried in a situation like this. We're still human, after all. Even if we're old and think nothing new ever happens here." Saijo gripped his colleague's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. " But as much as you helped them grow, you see what they have become. Shiraishi found the strength to lead a traumatised Yokomine back on the right track, keeping her steady and managing the situation on the field, even though she had just experienced a traumatic event herself. It certainly calls for her great personality, but also for her experience and training." Saijo looked at Tachibana. "Just like the others, she had an excellent mentor to reach that goal."

Tachibana lead the words sink in, then smiled. He chuckled as he remembered the five of them standing in the OR when he first started to work with them. A shy Shiraishi, an arrogant Aizawa, a very serious Saejima, a clown named Fujikawa and a very competitive Hiyama. Chaotic at best, but look at them now.

Saijo began again. "You know, Shiraishi might be in a difficult place right now. It sure is a lot to handle for her, there is no doubt. But she has a lot of support, her friends, her coworkers and surperiors, and with their help, as well as her own strength, I am absolutely certain she'll overcome it. It will take some time, but still. She will be okay." He grinned and looked at his watch sighing. "I get home later every day. I wish you a good evening, Tachibana." He patted the other's shoulder again, before bowing and walking of to the dressing rooms.

Tachibana was left in the hallway. He peered into the ICU again, watching Takahashi and Yamamoto-san. He smiled. Saijo was right. They would overcome this. He started walking to the dressing rooms too, grabbing his phone from his pocket and writing a text to Mitsui. He felt the urge to see his family tonight.

Aizawa unlocked the door to Shiraishi's apartment, guiding the female doctor inside. Her bag in one hand, her car keys in the other, he placed her items on the kitchen counter and put her jacket on a chair. He would get his own car the next day, he could walk home. Shiraishi settled in a chair, propping herself up on her ellbow. She seemed tired, worn-out. Aizawa watched her for a moment, frowning.

"Have you eaten anything today? Do you want something?", he asked. She shook her head. "I'm not hungry.", she murmured. Aizawa figured that she probably had not eaten anything since lunch time, and it was already quite late, so he called a local take away to bring some food. He didn't force her to eat it, but he left it in the fridge, just in case.

"Do you want to go to sleep", he asked again, looking at the slumped petite figure in the chair. She shook her head again.

"I can't.", she croaked. Aizawa frowned even more. He was relieved she was opeing herself to him, showing her feelings, but the sadness in her face and the fear in her voice hit him unexpectantly, and most importantly, in a place he never thought it would affect him. He surpressed the urge to encircle her in his arms, holding her close, fearing she would be more distressed by it, so he stood awkwardly near the kitchen, thinking. He suddenly pushed himself away, approaching her. He rested a hand on her back, strocking it slowly, an action that made her look at him astoundished.

"Why don't you settle down on the couch? You could watch something in the television, and I bring you a cup of tea?" He wispered softly. She smiled faintly. "Yes, that would be nice, thank you." He smiled back as he watched her straightening herself and walking over to the sofa.

Shiraishi turned the television on, zapping through the canals without a plan in her mind, but the zapping and the music and voices playing in the background seemed to calm her a little. Aizawa put the hot tea in front of her, then left out of her field of vision once again.

He stood behind the couch, silently observing her. She had grabbed a soft blanket from the couch that almost hid her entire body and played with the rim of it, not really paying attention to anything else. He couldn't bring himself to leave now, even though Aizawa mused that it probably was not very appropriate for him to stay here; staying the night in a woman's apartment, even though it was the one of Shiraishi, a friend. Or, and that might be the core of his hesitation, exactly because it was Shiraishi. The unexpectant things she did to his heart left him shaken and yearning for something more, and it sometimes scared him how of his daily thoughts radiated around her.

"Aizawa?", Shiraishi called out, disrupting his train of thoughts. He noticed she had turned off the television and was looking at him.

"Yes?", he walked around the couch, sitting down next to him.

"Can you stay here? Just for a while.", she asked, tears visible in her eyes. A look that made his heart throb again.

"Okay.", he answered and felt her arms around his torso as she leant against him. He laid next to her on the couch, adjusting the pillow behind his head. They fell silent for quite a while, and he occasionally peered over at her face, but she was still awake. He himself struggled to fight back the fatigue that was settling over him. This day had been very tiring, and although Tachibana had told him to take things slowly, he still had to turn up tomorrow morning. So he was slowly drifting off, when he heard a light sob and a tremble coming from a weight on his chest. He turned over and noticed that Shiraishi pressed her face against his torso, clunging at his shirt.

"It was so loud.", Shiraishi cried. "So loud, I can't get it out of my head." Aizawa straightened himself and put his hands on either side of her head, on her ears, his cold fingers grazing strands of black hair. She rested her forehead against his chest. He laid back down next to her. draped his hand over her right ear, stroking the skin beneath it as he turned on the television and chose a channel that showed a film that seemed to be more romantic and comedy than anything else on other channels. It didn't matter, really, as long as Shiraishi would not feel anymore distressed than she did now. Shiraishi rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she absentmindedly watched the television, Aizawa's left arm stroking her back. He occasionally pressed a light kiss to her head.

 _In desperate times, you have Hyijama, Saejima, even Fujikawa, and me. I'm not even going to pretend to understand how you feel; I wish you wouldn't have to. I can't turn back events and prevent them from happening, but I can stay with you and help you. I'll give you my shoulder to cry on, I'll give you everything I have if you need it._

The clock on the wall opposite of him showed that it was 2 in the morning as Aizawa turned of the television and cautiously got up. Judging by the steady and calm breathing, Shiraishi was sleeping soundly. He draped the blanket over her and grabbed his cell phone from the pocket in his pants. He set the alarm for the next day before he glanced back at the female doctor. Almost automatically, he let his hand graze over her cheek one last time, his thumb stroking it.

 _I don't care if it takes days, weeks, months, years._

He moved himself to an arm chair, drapping his jacket over his chest, before slowly dozing off.

 _Because I'm not planning on letting you go anytime soon._


End file.
